


It’s hard to breathe sometimes

by justhockey



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e15 Coda, First Kiss, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, eddie begins, sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhockey/pseuds/justhockey
Summary: He doesn’t know how to form the words of comfort he knows Buck needs to hear. So instead he just leans on him. Let’s his knees fold beneath him and his body sag into Buck’s chest, knowing that he’ll catch him. Buck is always there to catch him.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 448





	It’s hard to breathe sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Carry You_ by Ruelle.

He’s numb with cold, can barely move his fingers as he carves his hands through the water, but his lungs feel like they’re about to explode and it’s too much. 

He can’t take it anymore. 

But then he thinks of his son, and suddenly the fear and the ache don’t matter anymore, and his mind is just a litany of _Christopher Christopher Christopher,_ and Buck too, because _of course_ Buck. Always Buck. He has people he needs to make it home to. He made a promise all those years ago, not just to his wife, but to his son, and to himself. 

He would always fight to make it home to his family, and his family are waiting. 

The first thing Eddie feels other than the screaming burn in his lungs, is Buck. Buck’s arms around him, his hand entwined with Eddie’s. Buck’s breath on his neck as he murmurs over and over. Eddie can’t breathe, can barely stand, so it takes a while for him to process what’s being said to him. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok, we’ve got you. I’ve got you Ed, you’re ok.”

Buck’s voice is scratchy and hoarse, like he’s been screaming, and Eddie wants to say something to make it better. But his lungs are on fire and it still kind of feels like he’s under water, he doesn’t know how to form the words of comfort he knows Buck needs to hear. So instead he just leans on him. Let’s his knees fold beneath him and his body sag into Buck’s chest, knowing that he’ll catch him. Buck is always there to catch him. 

The next hour or so is more or less a blur for Eddie. There’s the ambulance ride to the hospital to check him over, Buck glued to his side the entire time, the rest of the fire family too. And then it’s back to the firehouse to shower, but he’s too tired and shaking too much for anything more than a quick wash. Buck is in the shower stall next to him, and Eddie notices his hands tremble as he tugs them through the mess of muddy curls on his head. 

He focuses on the smallest of details to keep him grounded. The scratches on his arms, the dirt swirling down the drain, the cracked wall tiles, Buck’s breathing next to him. Just anything to keep his mind present, away from the water and the mud and the storm. 

He wants Christopher with every fibre of his being. The need to hold his little boy in his arms is like a physical weight on his chest, like the press of the earth as it had collapsed on top of him. But he knows it’s not a good idea, not right now when he’s shuddering uncontrollably and he can barely put a sentence together without choking on the memory of the water he can still feel in his mouth. 

He doesn’t want to scare him. Christopher doesn’t need to know how close he came to losing his dad tonight. His Abuela has him anyway, and Eddie is certain that Chris is already fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the events of the day. 

So he lets Bobby drive him home. He’s sitting in the back seat, watching the water droplets racing down the outside of the window like he used to do when he was little. He’s vaguely aware of Buck and Bobby talking in the front seat, about him, no doubt. But he doesn’t make any move to insert himself into the conversation, he’s not sure what he could say anyway. 

Apologise, probably. No, definitely. He knows he owes them that, at least. But not tonight, he’s too exhausted to mean it, and they’re too relieved to accept it right now. So he stays quiet, and avoids meeting Buck’s eye in the mirror. 

It’s funny, though, Eddie thinks. And he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth curve upwards when he thinks about how his whole family, himself, Christopher and Buck (always Buck), have almost died by drowning. Except it’s not funny at all, it’s actually really fucking scary, and his hand quivers as he clutches his Saint Christopher. He figures two tours in Afghanistan and running into burning buildings (or squeezing into drainpipes) for a living allows him a little fatalistic humour, though. It’s all he’s got right now. 

Eddie thinks he should be shocked when they pull up in front of his house and Buck gets out too. But with the way he’s been hovering, his hands or eyes on Eddie at all times, he finds himself quite unsurprised. They wave goodbye to Bobby before opening the front door and walking inside. 

It’s been less than 24 hours since Eddie was last inside his home, but everything somehow looks different. Or maybe everything looks the same, but it’s Eddie that is different now. He can’t help the way his body tremors when his eyes land on the framed photos on the wall by the door, of Christopher, the fire fam, _Buck._

He lets out a breath he thinks he’s been holding since the water crashed over his head. It’s jagged and desperate and he feels tears building behind his eyes, can feel Buck reach out to touch him, but he hesitates and Eddie is close to begging for something, _anything_ from Buck. But then Buck drops his hand back down by his side and Eddie’s chest squeezes painfully. 

He drops his work bag in the entrance by the door - he’ll throw away the mud soaked uniform, he doesn’t need to keep that memory - then slowly, with unsteady footsteps beneath him, he begins to walk through the house. 

He’s not sure what his plan is, but his shoulders are tense as he waits, _hopes_ , that Buck will follow him. When he finally hears another set of footsteps behind him, the tension in his body bleeds out a little. Eddie feels greedy for needing him, he knows that Buck is a mess right now too, but he can’t stop himself from being selfish. 

Eddie smiles a little when he pushes open the door to Christopher’s bedroom. He should have figured it’s where he’d end up, even with Christopher safely tucked into bed at his Abuela’s. He can’t have his son right now, it wouldn’t be fair to wake him when Eddie is a mess and Chris has school tomorrow, but he _can_ sit amongst Chris’ things, breathe in the scent of his baby who isn’t really a baby at all anymore. 

He doesn’t bother turning on the light, just leaves the door open and heads over to his son’s bed. He doesn’t sit on it, doesn’t want to disturb the gentle creases of where Christopher had been lying. Instead he sinks to the floor, leaning against the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He lets his head tilt backwards to rest, it’s too heavy to hold up anyway. 

Buck stands in the doorway, casting a shadow over the strip of light shining in from the hallway. Eddie squeezes his hands into fists, lets his fingernails dig into his palms, and then cautiously, for the first time since he’d been back above ground, Eddie makes eye contact with Buck. 

Eddie thinks he’d been expecting anger. That’s how he would have felt if the roles had been reversed tonight. But Buck just looks exhausted, and there is an echo of terror still glistening behind his irises. He wants to reach for him, but Eddie is afraid that if he lets go of his knees he might fall apart completely. 

He’s still cold; a deep, aching chill right down to his bones. He wants nothing more than to wrap himself up in Buck’s warmth and light, but he’s hesitant. It feels like he keeps taking and taking and taking from Buck, around every corner, at every turn, he’s there, asking more of him. 

But then Buck slides down to sit beside him, and suddenly he’s surrounded. They’re pressed together from shoulder to hip, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Buck’s hand finds Eddie’s in the darkness and he grips onto him like he had earlier, when Eddie stumbled into his arms. He can feel the way Buck’s entire body trembles, and he thinks that maybe this isn’t taking, not if Buck needs it just as much as Eddie does.

They sit in silence for a while. It’s unusual for them, normally Christopher or Buck would be chattering away, but now it’s just deafeningly quiet. There’s a distant hum of cars somewhere far away, but other than that the only sound is their breathing, deep and slow. Eddie is grateful for it, for the sweet, clean air he gets to breathe in. He’s grateful that Buck is the one sitting beside him right now, because there’s no one else on earth who makes him feel as grounded, as safe as Buck does. 

Slowly, Eddie pulls their joined hands towards him so they’re resting heavy on his leg. He lets his thumb gently brush back and forwards, feeling the rough, scratched skin of Buck’s hand. He looks down at them, hesitantly, like maybe Buck will fade away in front of his eyes if he even acknowledges this. 

Eddie’s eyes focus on the dirt underneath Buck’s fingernails. It’s not usually there. He traces the tip of Buck’s nail with his index finger, taps it twice. A question without words. 

“I, uh, tried to dig you out,” Buck offers. 

It’s the first time they’ve spoken since the hurried words of comfort Buck had uttered when they found Eddie. He hadn’t realised how much he needed to hear Buck’s voice until it washes over him, gravelly and hoarse but _Buck_ all the same. An ounce more tension seeps out of his shoulders. 

“With your hands?” Eddie asks. 

He means it as a joke, because obviously not with his hands. There’s no way. 

“Yeah.” 

Buck’s voice cracks, even though it’s only one syllable, and Eddie feels the tears burning at the corners of his eyes again. 

He squeezes Buck’s hand and leans forwards, resting the side of his face on their joined hands as he turns his head to face Buck. He feels brave, doing this, crossing this line they’ve being toeing for so long, even if it’s only slightly. 

He’s facing forward and his eyes are closed. Eddie doesn’t like it, he needs Buck to look at him, feels like he might _die_ if he doesn’t. 

“Buck,” he whispers. 

He watches as Buck scrunches his eyes closed even tighter. 

It feels like he waits for an eternity before Buck opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Eddie (he doesn’t mind, he’d wait forever for Buck).

He had been desperate for Buck to look at him, but now that he is Eddie feels his heart kind of break. He looks more vulnerable than Eddie has ever seen him before and he doesn’t know what to do with that, how to handle the quiet intensity behind his eyes. Especially when he’s not even sure what it means. 

“Hey,” he whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Hey,” Buck replies, just as quietly. 

This thing between them, whatever it is, has never felt so prominent. But it’s also never felt so fragile, like if they dared to raise their voices it would shatter. Eddie thinks he might shatter along with it. 

“I’m sorry I cut the rope.”

He was going to wait, until it was less raw, until they were less exhausted. But he feels like he needs to say it and Buck deserves to hear it, and he doesn’t know how to move forward from this unless they get it out of the way first. 

Buck doesn’t reply immediately, he takes some time to think it over, but he also doesn’t look away from Eddie. It’s like now they’ve made eye contact they’re afraid to break it, in the same way they’re afraid to speak too loudly. Everything feels like it’s balancing precariously on a cliff edge; one wrong move could bring the whole thing down. 

“I understand why you did it,” Buck says. 

Eddie wants to continue talking but he doesn’t think Buck has quite finished yet, so he waits it out a while. 

“I forgive you, I think I’d forgive you anything,” Buck confesses, “but I’m still mad at you.”

Buck’s voice is gentle but Eddie still feels shame prickling beneath his skin, like he’s a child being scolded for something he _knows_ he shouldn’t have done. He feels so very young all of a sudden, younger than he’s done in years, and he almost wants to cry for disappointing Buck. 

He thinks his bottom lip starts to quiver, because Buck smiles at him sadly and squeezes his hand again. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“I know you are, Eddie.”

“But you’re mad at me,” Eddie murmurs, and he knows he sounds childish but it _hurts._

Buck nods. 

“You should have let me go down,” Buck says. 

Eddie feels a chill run down his spine and his whole body stiffens. He sits up straight and moves his free hand to grip their already locked hands. He raises Buck’s hand between both of his, and presses them again his forehead. 

“No.”

“Eddie-“

“No,” he repeats, firmer this time. 

Buck shakes his head. Eddie’s eyes are closed but he can feel the slight movement of his body. He feels cold again, shaky at the thought of Buck being the one trapped down there, freezing cold and all alone. He can’t bare it. 

“Eddie look around, we’re in Christopher’s bedroom. Your _son._ The kid who depends on you for everything.”

Eddie isn’t sure if he can stop the tears if Buck carries on talking, but he doesn’t know how to make his mouth work to ask him to stop. 

“You almost didn’t come home to him today, you almost left him all alone because you were impulsive and reckless,” Buck says. 

Eddie feels a bubble of hysteria build inside him and it comes out as a half-sob, half-laugh. 

“Right, and impulsive and reckless is your job?” 

Eddie knows it’s a low blow and he kind of hates himself for it. He waits for Buck to pull away or to get mad or _something_. But he doesn’t, he just takes a few breaths deep enough for Eddie to hear them. 

“We almost lost you.”

Eddie clutches at the _we_ like it’s a lifeline. It kind of feels like a possibility, like something more than this painful in-between Eddie feels stuck in. 

“We’ve almost lost you too many times to count,” Eddie counteracts. 

He brings their hands back down his knee as he says that, and feeling brave again he turns to look at Buck.

“I can’t tell you how _terrified_ I was Eddie. How absolutely fucking _agonising_ that was to watch the earth collapse on top of you,” Buck says, his voice breaking. 

“And the looks that they all gave me when Bobby pulled me away? Like - like they were terrified they were going to have tell me that you were _dead?_ Fuck.”

Buck has to stop talking. Tears are silently streaming down his face and he’s biting at his lip. Eddie hurts for him, that he made him go through that. He wants to take away the memory, take away the pain, but he doesn’t know how to, or if it’s even possible. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, because he’s too afraid to say anything else. 

He wants to kiss Buck so desperately that his teeth ache with it. He wants to cross the bridge he feels is separating them and hold onto Buck for dear life. But he’s not sure if he’s allowed, not before all of this and _definitely_ not now. 

The longing is too much, and the tears that have been building for hours finally spill over. Hurting Buck, _disappointing_ him, it’s the worst thing Eddie can imagine. He needs Buck, needs him so fervently that it feels like a constant hum coursing through his veins, but he’s so scared that he’s ruined everything they could have been. 

He doesn’t know what to do or say, he just holds on tight and cries. 

He doesn’t realise that he’s sobbing until finally, _finally_ Buck’s arms wrap around him. He’s holding Eddie so tightly it feels like he’s trying to keep all the pieces of him together, and Eddie is intensely thankful for it because he’s way past the point of trying to do it himself. 

He’s never felt this exposed or vulnerable before. It’s like every facade and pretence has been dropped and now he’s showing himself fully to Buck for the first time, hoping, _desperate_ for Buck to want him anyway, even as broken as he is. 

Everything is just rushing over him in waves and he can’t catch his breath. His love for Christopher, his love for Buck (god, he _loves_ him), the sheer terror of being trapped 40ft below ground, the flashes of Afghanistan that keep creeping up on him. It’s all happening at once and it’s too much and he needs Buck to make it go away, but he’s too afraid to ask, isn’t even sure he knows _how_ to ask for things anymore. 

“I’ve got you Eddie, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, it’s ok,” Buck hums, his head resting on top of Eddie’s and his lips pressed into his hair. 

He’s not sure how long it takes for the crying and the shaking to stop, but it does eventually, and Buck is still holding him, his hands rubbing circles across Eddie’s side. He feels so much guilt, for hurting Buck and his team, for still taking from Buck even though he knows it isn’t fair, but he’s too tired to move away. His whole body feels like jelly and Buck feels too much like home to deny himself that, right now. 

They’re quiet again, but it feels more peaceful this time, now that they’ve aired what needed to be said. 

“I love you.”

Eddie’s wrecked voice breaks the silence. 

He didn’t mean to say it. They shouldn’t do this now, it’s the worst time imaginable, but it’s out there and he can’t take it back.

“I love you, too,” it takes less than a heartbeat for Buck to reply. 

He could mean it in the way he loves Bobby and Chim and Hen, but Eddie knows somehow that he doesn’t. Buck loves him back and this is terrible timing and his head and throat and entire body aches so completely, but his heart feels whole for the first time in what feels like forever. 

He wants to say something, do something to acknowledge this moment that is passing between them, that somehow changes everything and nothing at the same time. But all Eddie can do is let Buck pull him to his feet and guide him out of Christopher’s bedroom and into his own. 

Eddie all but collapses on the bed, and he’s feeling so many things at once that there’s no room to feel embarrassed when Buck takes off his shoes and jeans for him. 

He knows there are things that they need to talk about before they fully understand what’s happening between them, but that doesn’t stop Eddie from asking Buck to stay with him. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Buck promises as he climbs into bed. 

Eddie falls asleep quickly, and when he wakes the next morning Buck’s arms are still secured around him, like Buck was afraid to let him go. He’s still exhausted, and there’s an echo of grief inside of him over what could have happened last night, but Buck eases all of that by simply being there. 

Buck twitches in his sleep, and his face contorts into a pained expression that Eddie wants to smooth away. He feels guilt wash over him. Buck had just been getting over the tsunami, and its starting to seem like every time his nightmares begin to subside, something else happens to bring more to his restless nights. He doesn’t deserve it. Eddie is tired of seeing Buck hurting. 

“Stop thinking so loud,” Buck mumbles. 

Eddie laughs, and when Buck’s sleepy eyes meet his he feels a happiness that he never expected to be allowed again. 

“Morning,” Eddie says. 

“You ok?” Buck asks, because he’s always thinking about everyone but himself. 

Eddie wants to say yes, but it wouldn’t be totally true and he doesn’t want to lie to Buck. So instead Eddie shrugs and offers him a half smile. 

They move around each other easily as they get dressed, then again in the kitchen as they make breakfast, their arms brushing together and moving each other out of the way with a hand to their hip. It feels natural, like they’ve been doing it for months or years. It startles Eddie to realise they _have,_ just not always in this capacity. 

Their first kiss is in the shower. 

Buck eases off Eddie’s clothes, then pulls him under the water, letting his hands rest on either side of his neck until his breathing evens out and the water doesn’t make him feel like he’s drowning. 

Once the frown lines have slipped off Eddie’s face Buck turns him around and, with gentle, easy hands he begins to wash the mud out of Eddie’s hair. He can’t remember the last time someone washed his hair for him, but it was most certainly his mom when he was a child. Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s crying again until Buck wipes the tears from under his eyes, and he kisses him so sweetly that Eddie feels high from it. 

They’re the first parents in the parking lot at the end of the school day, and when Eddie gets Christopher in his arms he has to fight not to cry again. His heart feels like it grows three sizes when Christopher reaches for Buck to pull him into the embrace as well. 

“Are you ok dad?” Christopher asks.

“I’m perfect kiddo.”


End file.
